The tale(s) of Deacon Decay
by Kenndar4000
Summary: Deacon has been instructed all his life by the Order. What will happen when he interacts with those outside of his order?
1. The Beginning

**Greetings, all you readers. Welcome to my first ever fanfic. Yes, indeed. Being transformed into a brony finally jumpstarted the creative juices enough for me to actually post stuff. So without further ado, let's begin...**

**THE TALE(S) OF DEACON DECAY!**

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One thing they never tell you about rituals and ceremonies: kneeling down can be havoc on your legs, if it goes on long enough.

I would've found the insight entertaining, if I wasn't experiencing it first hoof. Argh. He'd been partially kneeling in front of his teacher for the last twenty minutes already, waiting for him to finish his speech. Who-ever wrote the words just loved to go around in circles, it seems.

" **…Gathered here to ask for the blessings of…..** " And on and on. I gave myself a mental admonishment for this internal disrespect. This was an important ritual, after all. His teacher would give him the blessings of our patron, so that we may succeed tomorrow.

We were going to need it, frankly. Recovering powerful artifacts from a spellhidden stronghold, in the middle of an supposedly haunted forest? Not exactly your average magical exam. The objects were sure to be heavily guarded, not to mention the likelihood of powerful spell wards they'd either have to fool or overpower. But it would be worth all the risks, if our efforts managed to liberate them, the Artifacts of Da'Agnor.

As the story goes, Da'Agnor was one of the first students of our founder. Supposedly, he created a quarter of the spells in our textbooks. But even that achievement wasn't enough for the exemplar student. Pouring his power into three objects, he was sure they'd outlive him, aiding the Order in their task.

He was half-correct. The artifacts outlived him, sure enough. Creating them killed him. Too much strain on his heart. But using them never came to pass. Soon after their creation, there was a raid, and the artifacts were part of the prize. Since then, they've been locked away by the enemy. So not much aid there. But me and my band of fellow students would change that soon enough. Just thinking about the possibilities these artifacts would open to the Order….It was enough to make me grin a little bit.

I quickly corrected myself though, showing the world ( or this room, anyway) an impassive, stony expression once again. Showing anything but –that- was a breach of protocol. Did our teacher notice?

"…**And let it be known that all are…." **Apparently not. Phew. Merick was a stickler for 'ritual etiquette'. I could still recall that time when Silverweight snickered loudly during a silent moment in a passionate, if somewhat silly speech from our teacher. I don't think his flank ever fully recovered from the beating. After all, we heard him yowling during it, through three floors.

It's somewhat harsh, but I'll grant Merick this much, though: It's an effective scare-tactic. Very few ponies ever dare to disturb the rituals when he's around.

From what I could tell, he was almost finished, anyway. Once this part was through, I'd simply had to accept the blessing in a deadpan tone (Or as Merick puts it : an solid voice!) , using the traditional words. Again, protocol. Letting out another mental sigh, I tried not to tune his voice out. Which was harder than expected. Argh. I was starting to fear that my knee might merge with the stone. Why was this taking so long?

Not that I thought the ritual was stupid. We really could use all the help we could get with this mission. Not to mention the flair involved with it all. A large, circle-shaped stone room, the only sources of light being a couple of golden candle stands, richly decorated with emerald orbs? Nifty. Dozens of ponies, dressed in dark blue cloaks, standing around you in a circle, while your teacher asks the patron to bless your actions? Certainly good for the ego.

But the altar in the center? Awe-inspiring. Better known as the Altar of Reckoning, it's ebony design has been the centerpiece for many great achievements in our order, and the legends surrounding it are endless. Some say that our patron resides within, looking with benevolence at his subjects. Others say it will someday select an avatar, to teach everypony of our glorious magics.

"…**And let it be known that our kin-in-charms smile….**" These stories are likely just fairy-tales, though. But it's still an incredible piece of history within the order, and it certainly sets the mood right for this. If only I wasn't constantly tuning Merick's voice out. Why was my mind wandering? Nerves, probably. Or excitement? Not sure which one it was, to be honest. Maybe both?

Just as I was about to speculate on the matter, I noticed that Merick was finishing up his monologue. Finally, my turn! "**…..Brother Deacon. Will you accept the Blessings, so that you may return in victory?**" Keeping my face impassive as I rose from the uncomfortable position, standing upright in front of my teacher. Now, normally, I'd had to get in front of the altar, ascending the few steps. But I decided against it. Otherwise, Merick would be looking at my chest, which doesn't exactly inspire as much reverence as eye-contact does. I was fairly sure that Merick wouldn't mind this tiny little deviation…Right?

Hoping that he understood my reasoning, I spoke the words required of me." I accept the Blessings, all in the name of our Order. So that one day, we shall bring salvation to all. Hail the mighty Patron!" I had to keep his tone steady. It had to be a veritable symbol of stone-cold resolve to all.

I sure didn't feel it quite that strongly. I mean…. Sure. I was confident I could pull off my part. I had put weeks of preparation and practice into it. I'm sure the others had done the same, as well. But did we account for everything? What if they had more guards? Or what if there was a spellward we hadn't accounted for? It made me a little jittery, to say the least. Not that you could tell from the sound of my voice. It helped that I had a pretty deep one to begin with. It certainly sounded confident as my words echoed across the silent room.

Merick did briefly narrow his eyes at me, however. Oops. Guess he wasn't too pleased at the deviation, but the scowl on his face quickly vanished, so I was fairly sure he'd let it drop. I was in the clear. Phew. I'd rather not engage in possibly lethal shenanigans with a pained flank.

Then again, he might wait until after the mission. Horsefeathers.

Not that anyone noticed this little tense moment. It was covered by all those gathered, as they stomped their fore-hooves , yelling out their hails, a deafening chaotic mélange of sounds and grunts. A new initiate would've likely been quite startled by it, but this wasn't my first ritual, and likely not the last. Still, it was a tad intimidating, even for me.

Merick raised his head high, his grey horn glowing with tapped magics. The room grew silent once more. " **Brother Deacon has been blessed!** " he bellowed out in his usual fashion. That is, in a rather commanding tone. Even that little sentence sounded like he's daring anyone to say otherwise. " **Now let us depart from these hallowed halls, for our evening reflections! **" Everypony started to move towards the only exit, having been dismissed by their leader. I followed suit not seeing any reasons to stick around with a possibly irate Merick , slowly making my way to my chambers. I just wanted to rest, maybe review the plans a little bit beforehand, maybe practice my spells. Nothing strenuous. On the way, I was approached by my 'partners-in-crime', Silverweight and Smoulder.

Silverweight was an grey-colored , average-sized unicorn with a penchant for being in the right place at the right time. And doing the wrong thing. In other words, he's prone to screw-ups. Sneezing during a ritual? Mistaking a shiny rock for a diamond? Setting his bed on fire while he was testing an new way of cleaning? He's done it, and more.

Still, you have to give him credit: he always works hard at correcting any mistakes he makes, and I've never heard him utter anything negative about anyone, save for some idle comments now and again.

Silverweight still does most of the cooking in our section too. Not because he's being bullied into it, but because he wants everyone to have good food while they work and study within the order. Outright volunteered for the task, to the collective appreciation of us all. I have to say that I'm quite fond of him. He's one of the few ponies who just interacts with me like I'm normal...

Smoulder, on the other hoof? He was an almost complete opposite sort of pony. Blue-green fur, coupled with a somewhat diminutive build. One could easily mistake him for a colt, from a distance. Though the notion would quickly be destroyed when you exchange a few words with him. Amongst the students, he's certainly the most mature of the bunch. Perhaps too mature. Always planning, always creating schedules. It could get maddening, at times.

Speaking of maddening, he can certainly work on a pony's nerves. Smoulder was 'gifted' with a razorsharp wit, and a will to use it on anypony that deserves it. And considering his high standards, that's….fairly often. It has not made him a popular pony. Ayup. It's not uncommon for me to intervene when one of his comments lands him into trouble with the other ponies in our section, to save my sharp-tongued buddy.

Ponies sometimes ask why I hang with Smoulder. I can see why they ask, but…..Honestly, they just have to get to know him better. He's just blunt about everything. Including himself. Like the fabled Tinker Tentacle spell incident.

An early creation of Smoulder, the spell was supposed to give the user an extra appendage, strong and flexible. Ideal for experiments and stuff. In a way, it worked. The tentacle certainly got….experimental. I'm STILL not sure why a tentacle would be so drawn to that particular place of our anatomy….Regardless, Smoulder was quick to denounce himself an utter moronic waste of space…in the public dining area. While apologizing profusely to those afflicted by it. Remembering that period of time still causes the occasional . Smoulder might be blunter then the average hammer, but his heart's in the right place.

And then there's me. Deacon Decay. Not exactly the name I'd have picked for himself. Sadly, I didn't get a vote in the matter. Students are accepted into the order when they're babies ( usually orphans), and given a name with some historical significance. For example, Deacon was the creator of the erosion spell, which he used to devastating effect in combat. And I believe Smoulder was some sort of ancient genius with fire spells? Eh. At any rate, I didn't get to pick the name. I mean. Deacon. The name just smells of dust.

Still. I suppose the name could be considered somewhat apt. I certainly look sickly with my fur pattern: A dark, almost pure black color, intermixed with dark green blotches. With an almost equally green mane to match. Sometimes, I wonder how that's even possible. Pure (bad) luck? Genetics? Magic? At any rate, it wasn't a pretty sight. It didn't help that I was a big stallion. Not enormously so, but most folks had to look up to meet my eyes. Or goggles, as the case usually is. I almost always wore dark green goggles, for…erh..personal reasons. It only added to the somewhat imposing sight that I was. Add my deep voice, and you got yourself a rather scary-looking pony. Or so I hope. It would be rather embarrassing if it was my body odor that made people cringe when I got near.

It made companionship a bit difficult to acquire, however. Most other students gave me a wide berth. And those that didn't either tried to use me for their own gain or they wanted to be friends for the wrong reasons. After all, anypony with a devious mind could find a use for a big scary stallion. Bah. So yeah, Silverweight and Smoulder are pretty much the only ponies who I interact with on a friendly basis. We've grown up together after all, studying the sacred magics of the Order. They'd never take advantage of me like that.

Well. Not intentionally.

There were others from our time, but most of them had already gone to serve other sections or they simply avoided my presence. Hrm. I used to try to talk to newcomers, but they quickly get informed by their friends, and boom. Another one considers me a semi-pariah.

Thankfully, there isn't any bullying or whispering behind my back. At least, none that I'm aware off. They simply leave me alone to my own devices. Most of the time, I don't mind it overly much. I enjoy furthering my studies here anyway, learning more about our sacred arts without any annoying interruptions. Like the spell I have in store for the guards tomorrow. Heh. That should be entertaining to watch.

And when I do crave some social companionship? There's always Silverweight and Smoulder, ready to talk my ears off about whatever they'd been bickering about recently. From mishaps to crushes. I adore them, to be frank. They're all the friends a pony could ever need, in my honest opinion.

And truth be told, I probably don't help my reputation any when I help them out. Silverweight's issues usually involve some sort of mess that needs cleaning up or a fixing. Nothing overly bad, aside from the occasional lynch mob, out to beat his flank for some accident. But Smoulder?

Smoulder usually has somepony ticked off at him, as I mentioned. Coming in and protecting my friend from pissed-off ponies usually makes me look like the bad guy. After all, I'm usually the bigger, creepy-looking one, eh?

The things you do for friends.

Silverweight was the first to speak up as he came up on my right, giving his trademark goofy grin. He always looked like he was about to go to a party to me. " Man….I'm so psyched for tomorrow! Those Artifacts are as good as ours!"

Smoulder rolled his eyes at the remark, as usual, putting in his two bits. " Please. Even you know that this will be a difficult endeavor. Even if we all follow the plan." The snort accompanying his remark made it clear that Smoulder wasn't betting on that happening. So he had his doubts as well, huh? It made me feel a bit relieved. Not the only one with jitters, after all. However, I could guess at who the comment was directed to, however. Silverweight, the pony in question, simply chuckled. Clueless.

" Yeah, sure. But hey! We got the blessings from Merick himself. Not to mention that Deeks'll be causing a ruckus when we're looting the place!" Heh. Silverweight only called me Deacon when he had to. Otherwise, it was always Deeks. Or Deekster. Or Deekie. You get the idea. Don't mind it one bit. It's better than Deacon. No disrespect to the pony it belonged to. He was a badflank, if half the stories surrounding him were true.

Smoulder frowned a bit, as if he didn't want to agree, but had little choice in the matter. Which may as well be true. Smoulder certainly believed more fervently in the power of the ritual than Silverweight.

" Well…That's true. Deacon will be quite noticeable, I'm sure." Coming from him, that's some note-worthy praise. I smiled as he looked up at my ugly-looking muzzle, to show him I appreciated the confidence he had in me. Smoulder simply nodded in confirmation, and continued. Totally best buddies forever. " What are your thoughts on it, Deacon?" Silverweight eagerly chipped in as well, in his own way. " Yeah, Deeks. Whatya think? Easy as Hay or Nay?"

I pondered the question as we neared my sleeping quarters. The Artifacts of Da'Agnor were locked inside a mountain. And I don't mean inside one that's hollowed out. I mean a big, solid mountain. We're still not sure why or how they did it. But that's the gist of it. The only room is one chamber, which contains the artifacts, with no hallways leading inwards from the outside. The obvious way in is to blast open the mountain. But that's not a feasible action, considering the heavy-duty spells protecting the whole area. Even an alicorn would have difficulties breaking those. Not to mention alerting half of Equestria in the process. Thankfully, there IS another way in.

See, the room is connected with a teleportation crystal. It's the only way anypony can get in without causing severe property damage, in fact. Makes sense, really. Even if they were locking the things away, they'd still need to check up on them from time to time.

Where is this crystal located, I hear you asking, brain? Why, in an supposed haunted forest, of course! Where else?

Sarcasm aside, it's actually a good hiding spot, if you think about it. No pony who heard of the stories would even consider stepping a hoof in the place. And anypony who did would find out that quite a few of those stories are all too real.

It generally doesn't end well for the ponies involved.

And if that fails? Well, there's always the guards who're posted in the crypt. I haven't actually seen the place, but I've studied the blueprints provided by our shadow-users. Apparently, the crypt is built in a fairly simple way : The entrance, a fairly inconspicuous hole in the ground, leads to a big hall, with two chambers east and west of it. The guards not on duty are usually there. Probably their living quarters, for when they're not posted. I could see why. I wouldn't want to explore a lethal forest just for the sake of fun either.

If you follow the hallway, though, you'd get to the main chamber: We're not sure what it looks like, but reports show it's the place where the teleportation crystal is set up. Naturally, the guards are stationed there. And if that wasn't enough, there's like a half-dozen different warding spells surrounding the chamber.

But not the hallway.

Our plan is pretty straightforward: One pony ( me) will cause a major disturbance at the entrance, drawing the attention of the guards. Then, after a few minutes, a strike force ( Smoulder and Silverweight will be on that one. Lucky.) will be teleported in the hallway by Merick. If all goes well, they'll be able to breach the spellwards and overpower whatever guards are in there during the chaos. Success will be largely depending on my expertise in causing a magical mess.

No pressure or anything.

Smoulder and Silverweight were still expecting an answer from me, however. Should I tell them the truth? That I'm not a hundred percent sure of this?

No. No need in causing them to worry as well. " I think we're going to nail this, colts." I said, putting on a confident smile. " After all, we're badflanks, aren't we?!" I rose my right hoof towards them, awaiting their response. Sure enough, my response made Silverweight grin like mad. Even Smoulder had a little smirk on his face, as he rolled his eyes. The both of them tapped my hoof with theirs, confidence oozing out of them. I chuckled, nodding. " Good to see we got that cleared up. But erh…" I rubbed my mane a bit. " I still got to review my spellwork a bit, so…" I hoped they got the hint, as I waved at the entrance of my sleeping quarters.

Smoulder nodded, bless his bluntness. " Same here, Deacon." Ugh. If only he'd stop using my full name. Oh well. Can't have it all, I suppose. " Huh?" Silerweight blinked, before recognition seemed to dawn in his eyes. " Oh! Sure, Deeks. Guess I'll turn in early, then….See you!" he grinned, as he made his way down the hall, to his own bed. But before directing a comment towards Smoulder, however. " Who knows? I might actually wake up before mister Perfecto tommorow!" Did I mention that Silverweight also had a habit of making up nicknames? Because he does. Three guesses who Mister Perfecto is.

Smoulder frowned, following Silverweight. " Highly unlikely. Unless you meant that your snoring will keep me from sleeping at all."

Silverweight raised an eyebrow. " Hey! I don't snore!"

" Oh? " Well. I could see where this was going. " Were you trying to wake the dead with that noise, then? Good job."

" Wha..? Yeah right!" Silverweight snorted at his blue-green companion. I shook my head slightly at the sight of those two bickering like an old married couple, entering my room with a mental chuckle.

As far as rooms went, mine was modest. The Order disapproved of material possessions. It's all about the immaterial, aka magic arts. And the materials which aid in that. I have a one-pony bed, a bookshelf filled with literature pertaining the magical arts, and a small writing desk. The stone walls are a dull grey. The only source of illumination is the candleholder on the desk.

It's not much. But it's home, most of the time.

I took off my cloak, depositing it on the bed. My horn glowed a dark green, as did my spellbook, which floated towards me, the book opening on the page that I wanted to review. Gotta love telekinesis!

As I started to review my spells, my mind wandered. The Artifacts. We're not sure what they look like. That information got lost in the blaze of the raid. But we do know the powers slumbering within each one. I myself didn't much care for the powers contained in them, surprisingly. It just seemed a lot like cheating. I much preferred to enhance my own power, and hone my techniques. After all, the past has shown that external sources of power CAN be stolen.

Still, they'll greatly aid the Order's goals. Who knows? We might be able to overthrow the Tyrant Princess with their powers.

Wouldn't that be grand?


	2. The Mission

In the tales that ponies tell, it's always about glorious battles, the meeting of armies. Thunderous warcries and magical mayhem. Of heroic ponies who stood blazingly in front of the enemy.

Me? I hid behind a tree.

Not terribly heroic, but it's more tactically sound than standing out there in the open. Especially considering I'm out here on my own. I didn't think that Merick would've appreciated me getting offed by a couple of irate guards. Not that there were any around. I had a good view of the surrounding areas, from my hiding place. It was a small clearing in an otherwise dense forest. Not exactly conspicuous, but who would be out here, anyway?

The entrance was little more than a hole. A literal, pitfall-esque hole. It looked rather lacking. But I knew better. The hole itself had a shock ward strong enough to deter any creature from entering. And that's all it really needed. Even if they posted guards topside, they might sooner fall prey to the creatures of the forest than anything else. And anything that could get through it? They'd have to handle all the guards inside. In an enclosed area.

Yeah, I'll just stay behind my tree, for now.

Bit of a shame, though. I looked rather dashing with my cloak, if you didn't look too closely at the one wearing it. It was dark-blue, and adorned with little green orbs, neatly stitched into the grey ridges. I was rather proud of the orbs. They marked me as an exemplar student of our Order. Normal cloaks only had white circles on them. Silverweight always tries to convey his jealousy over the fact that I got the orbed one. Smoulder as well, only he does it with his eyes. And I could proudly say I earned it too. I studied and practiced the arts far more often than anypony else in our level.

Granted, I had a lot more time than others. Not a whole lot of ponies who wanted to hang with the big black brooding stallion, after all.

I also had a dark brown saddle bag on my right side, containing my essentials: my spellbook, my lucky tooth, and an alchemical healing potion. I hadn't brought any food or bits, though. We'd either only be here for a short time, or we'd be dead.

Practical, thy name is Deacon.

Anyway, the cloak was also enchanted by Merick himself : anypony trying to remember my face would have a hard time doing so. The only thing they would recall is the cloak. It's one of the reasons why so few of the order are ever caught: hard to catch anypony if you don't recall what they look like.

I also had an amulet around my neck. It wasn't much to look at : a small grey slab of stone, engraved with arcane symbols, tied around my neck with a brown rope. Not much to look at, unless you're in the antique look. But then again, this wasn't a fashion accessory.

It was the juice for my spell.

Suddenly, a voice was echoing in my head. '_Deacon,' _said the voice_. _It had the familiar dulcet tone of our teacher, Merick. His telepathy spell, I guessed. ' _We're in position. Start your spell up._' I nodded. It took me a minute to figure out that Merick couldn't actually see me nod.

I was nervous. Shut up.

'_Got it._' I thought , hoping that Merick had heard it. I wasn't entirely sure. I wasn't getting any response back, though, so it should be all right. Probably. Note to self : learn how the telepathy spell works.

With that little thought neatly filed into the 'later date shelf', I got to work on my part of the operation. My horn and amulet glowed with a green sheen, as I used the magic of our Order.

Better known to some as Necromancy.

Near as I could tell, we were the only ones who still used this ancient art. All other sources had been 'mysteriously' erased from Equestria, never to be seen again.

Coincidence? Probably not.

The average pony only knows of Necromancers in stories frequently told on Nightmare Night. They usually involve pony sacrifice, and evil rituals. They're also about as real as Daring Do's survival odds. There are no spewing cauldrons, no violation of spirits. Necromancy is simply a magic based on different principles and viewpoints. But try explaining that to the average pony.

Who's to blame for this slander? Why, the Tyrant princess herself. After all, it is a power she does not possess. A power that could defeat her. It's because of her that the Order is hunted. That we have to hide in underground shelters. That we're shunned and despised.

Just thinking about the facts angered me. Strangely, it made my resolve stronger. I would not fail.

This will be the first true blow to the Tyrant That I would strike!

Down with the Princess! DOWN WITH CELESTIA!

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I retreated further into the thicket of trees as my spell started to take effect. It was one of the more iconic spells in the repertoire of a necromancer: raising the dead.

It's not like the popular stories, however. Raising a rotting corpse usually took far too much time, not to mentioned it being considered a faux pas by any civil necromancer. Imagine the trauma you could inflict by using somepony your foe knew in life? They'd be scarred for life.

Though admittedly, the sight of a pony skeleton is also rather jarring.

See, when a necromancer wants to raise anything, they have to harvest a bone from a corpse. Usually, it's a tooth, or a rib. I preferred teeth, myself. Far more easier to carry.

The bones always remember what it was a part of in life. We call it an imprint. A necromancer can use his magic to fill the imprint up, forming a magical bone construct in the shape of whatever the bone belonged to, under the control of the caster.

It has the added benefit of your undead puppet being far more tougher than any raised corpse. After all, a body can be quite brittle, if it's been stuck in the ground for a couple of years. There is a disadvantage, however: it takes more power to pull it off. Which makes sense. You're growing an entire body, after all. I could raise three zombies ( theoretically. I never tried.) with the power required to raise one bone construct. On that note, there were currently about twenty teeth scattered in front of me. This had been done a few days ago, in preparation for today. Sadly, my current limit was 4 pony constructs at the same time. There's no way I would be able to raise all of these on my own.

Good thing I had the amulet.

I had been pouring my magic into the drab little thing for close to two weeks, leaving me unable to cast much of anything, besides telekinesis. It had been an particularly aggravating experience, not being able to properly practice, only able to read about spells. Not fun. At all.

All for this moment. The stone glowed a pretty fluorescent green color, as the stored magic flowed into the bones. Thankfully, there weren't any guards outside. They would've certainly spotted the glow by now. Similar bone fragments started to erupt from the teeth, crackling noises pervading in the air. Similar, but not the same. I knew that these magically created bones would be far tougher than their natural counterparts. They damn well better be, for the task at hand.

It didn't take long for I started to see fragments solidifying into unblemished replicas of actual bones. They clicked and cracked into place, forming a skeletal frame. First came the ribcage (_Crack!_), followed by the femur and assorted (_Crick!_), and lastly (_Crack!Crick!_), the head. Green flames burned where the eyes should've been. In the span of a minute, I had forty green flames looking right at me, awaiting my orders.

I almost pitied the guards. Almost.

I looked at the non-descript hole in the clearing. Nopony had come out during all this. I guessed that the guards were already accustomed to strange noises. After all, the Everfree forest is home to stranger things. I mentally went over things. I hadn't been spotted? Check. Twenty pony constructs under my command? Check. The amulet hadn't exploded yet? Check. I'm a badflank? Check.

Showtime.

I sent out my first batch of orders towards my skeletal posse. Thankfully, this was done mentally. Can you imagine having to spell it out vocally? Regardless, one of my constructs moved into the clearing. It approached the spellward. Once it was in front of the thing, it reared silently, only to then slam its skeletal hooves down on the ward. Several yellow flashes erupted from the impact, the spellward unleashing powerful electric jolts against the would-be trespasser. Anything living would've been at least slightly crispy after this attack. It only blackened the constructs somewhat , who proceeded to repeat the act. Another burst of yellow flashes. And again. And again. Even from a distance, I was starting the smell the fragrance of the air getting ionized by the repeated bursts.

The spellward was designed to be punishing, to deter any critter. It was NOT designed to be triggered constantly. The creator of the ward had counted on the fact that nothing was stupid enough to charge back into the ward, after it had zapped them with so much force. And that was working to my advantage. The ward's emissions started to lessen, each blast weaker than the last. And then silence.

My construct had seen better days. Or better minutes, to be honest. The entire frame was fried a crispy black by the electric onslaught, little trails of smoke emanating from bones. Several bits showed significant cracks. I winced at the sight. Yikes. It wouldn't last very long. Still. It had one more job to finish. Another order, and it stood in front of the entrance, looking down the steps. A sudden sound emerged from the crumbling construct. A ghostly sound, reminiscent of a whinny. Even if they hadn't noticed it breaching their ward, they sure as hay should've noticed it now.

The effect was almost immediate. I could hear voices coming from the entrance. They were loud. Someone screaming for reinforcements?

Finally, I saw a royal guard emerging from the entrance. Male, from what I could tell. He bucked my weakened construct. It didn't defend itself, and got sent flying across the clearing, smacking against one of the trees. I felt the frame crumbling from the impact, through the mental link. I winced. Damn. My mistake. Should've given it an order to defend itself.

More guards joined the first one, who was watching into the thicket, trying to spot any friends of my little troublemaker. I quickly issued my second set of orders. I grinned as I saw his eyes widen. Seems he spotted the flames. Heh. A lot of good that would do him.

Ethereal wails echoed across the silent night, as my remaining constructs charged out of the thicket, and slammed into the line of surprised guards like a tidal wave of bones and fury!

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It was a scene of utter mayhem. The screams of my constructs intermingled with those of the guards, as both forces met in battle. I watched from the bushes with a certain amount of satisfaction. Sadly, the guards weren't screaming in fear.

Most of them, anyway.

" Horsefeathers! What are these things?!" Said a burly grey-colored guard. An earth pony. Actually, all of them were earth ponies. Which definitely worked against them. The Royal Guard may have been the most elite fighting force of Equestria, but they were never trained to take on something that doesn't tire, nor feel pain. Several of the guards attempted to buck a group of constructs into oblivion, thinking them to be stronger than my puppets. But they were met by magical bucking bone-hooves, which proved to be more than a match for their living counterparts. Especially supercharged as they were! The knights in golden armor promptly got sent tumbling backwards by the ferocious counter-attack, some sporting black eyes, or even hoof-imprinted faces, for their efforts.

The Royal guards quickly re-focused after their embarrassing first attempt. They picked their attacks with care now, cautious for another powerful counter-attack.

However, as the battle raged on, it was becoming clear that my minions would win this skirmish. It helped that my minions didn't feel pain. They simply pressed on when attacked, letting out unnerving whinnies, smashing their hooves against the guards with supernatural strength, knocking them out left and right with every push. They were quickly dwindling in numbers. I wasn't the only one who noticed, either. One of them yelled out towards the others. "Get reinforcements! Quickly!" One of the remaining guards nodded, and sped down the steps. I didn't stop him from doing so.

After all, that's EXACTLY what we wanted.

Soon enough, more of the gold-clad ponies came running out of the hole, ready to assist their peers against the bony threat. A lot more. Which was good. The assault team would have to deal with less ponies. Still. They just kept coming. For each pony that got knocked out, another two emerged from the entrance. My minions would be overrun, if this kept up.

Time to intervene.

My horn glowed eerily green, as I worked a spell on one of the nearest guards. He blinked as he fell on his face, his back legs pulled together by a quickly-growing ebony chain. I made sure to duck behind my tree. Good thing I did, too. I heard them shout about magic-users. From what I could hear, they thought it was one of the 'skeletons'? Heh. I grinned. They hadn't got a clue. I repeated the spell a couple of times, sowing confusion amongst their ranks. Not like they could stop me casting. They were earth ponies, after all. Still, I didn't slack. Who knew when they would sent unicorns to the surface?

Suddenly, the voice returned into my head. ' _We're in. Good work on the distraction, Deacon. Keep them busy for a while longer, then retreat to the gathering spot,_' I smiled wickedly at the news. I couldn't hear or see what was happening inside, but I sure as hay could imagine it from the Guard's point of view.

First, the outer spellward going off. Nothing new. Just a critter wandering. Only it keeps going off. Suspicion starts to build. But still no mobilization. It could be a group of creatures. But then: A ghostly wail echoes down the steps. They're alerted. This wasn't just a random monster. A group of them charge up the stairs, ready to repel the invaders. Only..It isn't enough. Reinforcements are called for. A hint of dread and fear is established. Are they under attack? They ready themselves for the possibility that an enemy force might be charging down those steps at any minute.

The team of necromancers teleporting in would've caught them completely by surprise. The assault team would quickly subdue any forces still downstairs, making use of the chaos to penetrate the spellwards, and enter the teleportation room. From there, it would be smooth sailing.

Glorious.

The fighting was still going strong at the clearing, but I was starting to feel the strain. Controlling so many minions was starting to hurt my head. Not to mention all the ebony chains I'd been conjuring alongside that. It's a small wonder the amulet hadn't -

_Crack._

I blinked. Crack? Uh-oh. I looked down at my amulet. My fear was confirmed: The amulet had nearly reached its limit, tiny cracks appearing over the stone surface. How the hay had I overlooked that? Little green sparks surged from the cracks, the first signs of degradation. I had to act quickly. I went for the rope, gnawed the thing off, and hurled it towards the clearing.

No time to waste on wondering what would happen. Merick said the thing was unstable. I turned around and ran. I only covered a few feet, before I heard the amulet exploding. Yes, exploding. That did make me pause. If I hadn't removed the thing before running...

On the bright side, It sure sounded loud, a real eye-catcher. With a little luck, it would enable me to get out of the thicket unnoticed, giving me plenty of time to get towards the meeting spot.

I'd be lying if I said I was composed. Truthfully, I was scared senseless. I wasn't nearly as durable as my skeleton puppets ( which crumbled when the amulet went boom.) , not to mention I was now severely outnumbered. I was doomed if they caught up to me.

So, I ran, thanking my lucky stars for my long legs. My breath was getting shaky. I didn't bother to look behind me. My thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing only: putting as much space between me and the guards as was ponily possible.

I arrived at the end of the thick thicket without any problems. Not a sound was heard. That didn't mean I was in the clear yet. They might still be hiding. I kept a close eye on the surrounding area.

Nothing. Not a sound. Either these were the most stealthiest guards ever, or I was alone. I took a few moments to catch my breath, leaning against a nearby tree. Nothing jumped me. Bucking hell. I wasn't caught/

We did it.

A laugh escaped from my lips. Not the smartest thing ever, but I had little control over it. All my stress, my fears, my relief..It was all neatly bandaged into a clear laugh. " Oh…Oh…Bucking hell. That was…Damn," I laughed some more. I was so relieved. Nothing went wrong. I only had to get to our meeting, where Merick would teleport us back home. After that? Likely a feast. We sure had something to celebrate now. The artifacts would prove to be a massive boon to our cause.

My horn glowed with arcane might, preparing the spell needed for teleportation. A smart pony might wonder why I hadn't teleported from the thicket, instead of all that running? Simple, really. I hadn't fully mastered the teleport spell yet. My energy output was still sloppy. A decently skilled unicorn could trace the energy to my destination. And I doubt anypony would've wanted to get ambushed after having pulled off such a successful caper.

At least. I hope they did.

Bah. I was worrying about nothing, probably. Anyway, here? Even if a unicorn got at my current location and traced it succesfully, it would be too late. We'd be long gone. Merick's telelport spell was far superior. They'd never find us. I closed my eyes as I casted my spell, awaiting the feeling of displacement.

Nothing happened.

It took a moment to comprehend. I frowned, opening my eyes. Nope. Still at the tree. I looked around in confusion. I should be over at the meeting spot right now. Why did my spell fail? Too little power? No. I was drained, but not by that much. It couldn't be my concentration. Stress? No, I felt fine.

Well, up until the teleport failed, anyway.

What could cause this? Did the forest have some sort of anti-teleport zones? Unlikely. Questions surged through my skull, deciding on how to proceed. This was quickly cut short by a sudden voice above me, " That's far enough." The voice was female, a melodic tone to every word. Wait. She conjured a an anti-teleport zone? And she's above me? As in…flying?

_Oh no._

I started to look up, only to catch the owner of the voice landing in front of me. It was a large white mare. Bigger than me, in fact. And that's saying something. Her mane had not one, but several colors. Same with her tail. Adorned on her head was a beautiful golden crown, decorated with a dark-colored gem. Around her neck was a similarly golden necklace. More remarkable was the fact that she had both wings, and a horn. An Alicorn. She gave off a powerful regal-like aura. Scratch that, She WAS regal. Horsefeathers.

I was standing in front of the Tyrant Princess herself!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I was doomed. Screwed. A dead pony walking. The bucking Tyrant Princess herself. What the hay was she doing here?!

Inwardly, my thoughts were a jumbled mess. Outwardly, I tried to project indifference. It never pays to panic.

Visibly.

" Well," I said, trying not to show that my mouth was rather dry. I might be a dead pony walking, but that doesn't mean I'll give her the satisfaction of me breaking down. It sounded pretty normal, if a little hoarse. Hopefully, it just added to my necromantic demeanor, " If it isn't the Princess herself. I didn't think we'd rate that high." Which was damn well true. How did she find out? Canterlot was miles away!

Celestia cocked an eyebrow at me, before she resumed talking. Her voice was..not what I expected. It was far more soft, and…even gentle. Not exactly reminiscent of an evil tyrant, " You and your companions managed steal an artifact from some of my finest guards." A small, wry smile appeared on her muzzle. I'd almost say she was amused at something, "Not to mention the powerful spells protecting it. I'd say you rate pretty highly."

I cursed myself mentally. Buck me. How in the hay am I supposed to get out of here? If the stories are even remotely accurate, she would be immensely powerful. I might be a fairly decent necromancer, but not even nearly strong enough to challenge something that could raise the _Sun_, of all things!

Had to keep her talking. More talking means more time spent on thinking. I spoke up before she could continue, " They didn't seem all that 'fine' to me. I easily chained a lot of them." I neglect to add that they weren't even aware of me when I did it. I looked at her face as I said it. The Tyrant cocked her head to the side, as if she was examining a bug, " You were the one at the entrance." It was more a statement then a question, " Why did you chain them up? " That question surprised me, to be honest.

Though it probably shouldn't have. She was probably more accustomed to destroying her foes. Not binding them. It probably looked like a sloppy half-measure from her point of view. Despicable! I made sure to convey this, "…I don't see the need to meaninglessly kill ponies. Unlike some, apparently. Tyrant." I spat her true title out, laced with a good dose of venom. She seemed to wince as I uttered the term. Guess most ponies didn't call her out on it. After a moment, she looked rather oddly at me. "..Child. I am no tyrant. I don't know who instilled such hate in you, but...Please." Wait, what? "..Surrender. For both our sakes. I don't want to hurt you." Her voice was soothing, to my everlasting shame. I felt calmer. She really did seem like an angel.

Of course she did. How else would she keep control over her empire for a flipping thousand years? It was probably some sort of mind-control spell. Or really good acting. Also, she want to 'hurt' me? Yeah, right. And I was the Princess's cousin. Pull the other one, it has bells on it.

A plan was forming in my head. Not a terribly smart plan. But beggars can't be choosers, especially in this kind of situation. Now that I had calmed down ( suck it, celestia!) , I could focus on getting a spell off. Or two. I just needed a bit more time. More talking was needed, " Surrender? Why? So that you can torture our secrets out of me?"

She certainly had the angelic act down flat. She seemed genuinely horrified by the notion of torture, " NO! Nothing of the sort. Why would you even think I'd...?" Buck me, she really sounded hurt. Talk about acting skills, " I don't know who told you these lies, child. But I swear. I will find out. Please..surrender." She's wasted as a Tyrant. I'd watch plays with her in the lead. Still, this wasn't a play. I wouldn't be fooled by these fake words. The Order had instructed me well.

I started to focus my energies. I didn't ready any spells yet. It wouldn't do if she noticed what I was about to try. I had to keep her distracted. "…I guess I can't believe it either. Not after meeting you. Very well. I surrender." She seemed pleased by my answer, beaming slightly at me, all maternal-like. She was about to say something else, but I cut her off, " When pigs'll fly!" putting my escape plan into action!

Or, more likely, dying horribly. Better now than later, though. At least this would be quick.

My first spell was one of my most versatile ones. The Erosion. It was created by my namesake, Deacon Decay, which was the reason I learned it at first. It seemed nifty to have the same spell, at the time. It was only later that I considered the many favorable uses it had. Merick always told me it was a sign that my name was well-chosen. I had to agree. I could honestly say it was my favorite spell.

However, Deacon is STILL a dusty name.

Erosion is essentially the process of things breaking down. The spell does a similar thing, only it's not nearly as limited. If you had the power, you could practically erode everything.

Including magic.

I poured over half of my remaining magical energies into the spell, focusing the spell around Celestia. It took the form of a green haze, likely hiding me from her sight, as the fog attempted to erode her magic, both passive and active. Hopefully, it would disrupt her casting for a few moments, enabling me to cast my other spell without interruption: A teleport spell. A long-range one. A few miles, at the least. My first crack at it. If I messed it up, I could very be ported in pieces, all over Equestria.

Oh well. Better learn now than never, eh?

Casting the spell went off without a hitch. Near as I could tell, Celestia was rearing her forelegs at the sudden green miasma surrounding her. She probably thought it was poison or something. It kept her busy, as it tried to erode her magic. It partly worked. I didn't get blasted with a mouthful of solar magic, after all.

However, it hadn't dissipated the anti-teleport zone. Horsefeathers. Suddenly, my body felt like it was being pulled apart at the seams, each little fragment pulling a different direction. It wasn't pleasant.

At all.

In fact, I'd describe it as the worst pain I had ever felt. But I kept pushing against the anti-teleport zone. It's all I had left. I couldn't challenge the princess. Not even when I was well-rested and fully recovered. Let alone now. If this zone would rip me apart…So be it. I couldn't betray anything about the Order if I was dead.

At least I'd go out in a bang. A very squishy one.

I was faintly aware of the green, wobbling sparks coming off me. Or was my vision swimming? I wasn't sure. I could vaguely make out the Tyrant yelling something towards me, looking weirdly horrified. Or happy. Or whatever. But I wasn't aware of any sounds. Great. Deafness. Figures.

Just when I thought I would black out, the strangest thing. It felt like I was being pulled through a cheese grater, and someone kept bashing a plank across the back of my head. Repeatedly so. It took a few moments before I realized I was falling. Or at least, I was experiencing a falling sensation.

My vision was blurry, intermingled with flashes of utter black. Not good. Was I experiencing blood loss or something? I tried to focus on my surroundings. Checking to see if I had succeeded, at least. Anything to stay awake.

The edge of a forest. Green fields. And….A house? Or is that a rock? Apparently, I ported! Great! I escaped from a godlike entity! Woo! In your face, Celestia. Just wait until…Until…

Huh. That tree was certainly getting closer real fa-

THUD.

Then, darkness. Sweet , painless darkness.


End file.
